


Someone like me.

by Prescottpower



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety, Blood, Depression, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Violence, slightly-altered canon ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 00:25:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7144673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prescottpower/pseuds/Prescottpower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe is dead.<br/>Max's powers have vanished, and now she suffers daily from unwanted memories.<br/>Nathan was sent to a Mental Institution for a year to get help, guilt eating away every second.</p>
<p>What will happen when they meet again?<br/>Will they help each other rid themselves of their demons?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "I think I might be scared,  
> of the world,   
> and the way...it makes you feel afraid."
> 
>  
> 
> -Little Pistol, by Mother Mother

He draped his sleeve across his eyes, wiping the tears off, the roughness scratching his skin.  
He sniffled, his nose was surely red, he had been crying for hours.

Ahead of him was the most beautiful Orange and Red sunset you could possibly ever dream of, above him was the rest of the sky, Pink and Purple, a mixed platter of paint in color.  
Below him was the ocean, a mesmerizing deep navy blue, waves that fell onto the jagged rocks, the bottom screeching out his name.

He moved forward, slowly, carefully, little pebbles began to fall at the light touch of his shoe. His hands stuck out in front of him as he went to catch himself, he reminded himself to lower them, because he was trying to fall.

“I’m so sorry…” he whispered to nobody, and maybe it was nobody that heard him but he liked to believe that maybe somebody, somewhere was listening to him.

The wind blew through his clothes. A loose, white V-neck clinging to his food deprived body. His scars trailing up his arms, the guilt he felt...unbearable.

“I never meant to hurt you…” his voice was soft...slow, empty. He stepped forward another inch.  
The sound of the waves began to grow louder in his ringing ears, he wondered if the whales would drag him down.  
Would they make a sound?  
Would he?

“I’m so sorry…”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max climbed up the steep hill, even more out of breath than when she had been here a little more than a year ago.

“Fuck this hill.” She groaned, resting her hands tirelessly on her knees.  
Chloe’s three bullet necklace dangled around her neck, gleaming in the light of the golden hour.

Max hadn’t gained the strength to come back to this shit hole of a lighthouse since her sunshine was taken away from her.  
Sunshine in the form of a thin, blue-haired girl, with a fire in her eyes, and a knack for mischief.

Max glanced around, surveying the trees around her, the birds chirped as they flew around, Max followed everywhere they went.

It had been so long, and she still felt the heavy spirit of Chloe and Rachel.

Max fumbled with her camera as she mumbled to herself…  
“You didn’t deserve to die the way you did.”  
As stupid as it sounded, Max would pretend to talk to Chloe occasionally.  
Imagining that her best friend had her arm draped over her petite shoulders, or that she was always encouraging her to snoop around, always with her.  
Always.

She let her fingertips roam on the rough bark of the tree, knowing that once Chloe had touched it too.  
The wind blew through her hair, and she felt her nose beginning to get colder...shivering, she struggled her way up higher to the bench…

“I’m so sorry…” She heard a faint whisper,  
A voice she thought she would never hear again.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His fists were clenched, fingernails digging in his skin.  
He bit down on his lip as the nervousness crept in…

Just do it.  
Do it already,  
End it.

He screamed at himself, beginning to breathe through a closed mouth, his chest heaving.

His left foot stepped forward, the right one roughly planted down.  
Deep breath in.  
Deep breath out.

He attempted to jump off...but it never came.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan.

He was standing at the edge of the cliff, no doubt he was about to kill himself.  
Max’s blood began to run cold, her doe eyes widening at the sight.

She couldn’t let him.  
She wouldn’t let him.

It was all very slow in time as she ran forward, her hands stretched out, wrapping around his fragile form.

They both collapsed onto the dirt below them.  
Nathan began to squirm under her grip. His eyes were dilated, and rapid, he moved from her face to all around, to the flying birds...to beyond.

Max spotted the tears that trickled down his cheeks.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let go of me! Let go of me!” Nathan began to thrash in her grip.

Seeing her made things a little bit more worse than it was. It brought back that painful glance she gave him when she was escorted out of the bathroom. He had no clue that she had been hiding, and her eyes were bloodshot from the everflowing tears.

“I want to die! Let me die!” Max had originally thought it’d be a painful hassle to hold him down with her small frame, but to her surprise it’s shockingly easy.

His head whips right and left as he grimaces, tears are falling from both of their eyes...things start to calm now. Could she call this the calm before the storm?

Max gets off of him, bringing her knees up to her chest along with him, he rests his face on his legs and wraps his arms around himself. Max sees that he stills crying...In another timeline this boy is happy. 

Max would kill to see him happy.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Why did she care?

She stayed silent almost the whole time. Nathan felt that a bruise would surely appear on his right arm as he was roughly tackled in her attempt to stop him.

Now, they both stared ahead of them.  
Why would she stop him? He was the killer of her best fucking friend who would more than likely do anything to see Nathan fall, so why didn’t she let him do exactly that?

His eyes opened in a wide surprise as her arms wrapped around him tightly, loud sniffles audible from her present shaking body. Nathan slowly curled his arm around her, a blush creeping on his face as she dug herself deeper in him.

If this was the old Nathan, he would’ve pushed her off without a bit of hesitation, and threw a string of slurs her ways, threatened to sue her for physical contact or something.

If this was the old Nathan…

Fuck him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It goes all my troubles on a burning pile,  
> all lit up and I start to smile.  
> If I catch fire, then i'll take my turn...  
> to burn, burn, and burn, and burn and burn."
> 
> -Burning Pile, by Mother Mother

Arcadia Bay had ceased to exist within the last year.

What had been a nice tourist town had formed into a deserted town with barely a few people left, and a crumbling school system.  
Nobody dared to step foot into a town that had been the designated location of the once popular teacher, Mark Jefferson.

Max jumped at the very sound of his name, the memories still seared into her fucking mind. Nightmares every night. Panic attacks in similar situations. Max jumped at the sound of cameras...what had once lulled her to sleep has now transformed into something that can trigger a complete breakdown in a matter of questions.

What hurt the most is that it’s not like Max could really talk to anybody about what she had gone through. It happened in a whole other timeline. This was one where she just happened to know a lot, and nobody knew how she knew all of it but they listened.

Max fumbled with her fingers, checking her fingernails for dirt under them, then glancing out the window, then taking a sip of her coffee.

Max’s sweatshirt was wrapped around Nathan, whose eyes were purple from an evident lack of sleep. He stared into the coffee with a small frown, tear tracks making themselves known to her.

She wanted nothing more than to break the silence, but didn’t quite know how to. What did either of them say without bringing up the agonizing weight of grief?

Max tapped her fingers on the table, stopping once she noticed Nathan’s eyes glance to it...annoying, even to her it was.

“So...how have you been? I-uh, haven’t seen you in awhile.” Max avoided eye contact as she attempted to project her voice with false confidence.

Nathan’s eyebrow raised quickly, a small shake of the head.  
“You mean ever since I was put into a maximum security mental institution? because I was manipulated to drugging girls and taking their photos with our previous photography teacher?” 

Max cringed at how blunt he had become.

Fuck everything about being discreet then, because it just flew out the window.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan noticed at how she seemed to flinch quickly when he mentioned his name...he couldn’t blame her. It was a name that would take years for both of them to forget.

However, Nathan felt bad for sounding like such an asshole.

Steps to recovery man...apologize.

His inner voice barked at him, and he scratched at his hand as he quickly spoke up.

“I-I’m sorry...Max. I’m...fine. I guess.” They both knew it was a lie in the moment, if he had been so fine he wouldn’t have been standing at the edge of the Arcadia Cliff ready to drift away into silence.

Max shrugged and looked away, taking another slow sip of her steaming Coffee, Nathan didn’t touch his. He wouldn’t be able to keep it down, not with the everyday meal of Guilt he had been eating for a year.

“Well...I mean, i’m not fine...I think we both know that though, so...how have you been?”

Max gazed directly into his eyes, her eyes had always been so intriguing the many moments he had caught them, even before the painful introduction.

Nathan wished his first interaction would’ve been normal, not the stare that was to follow his wrong doing.

“I’ve been...living. Trying.” Her voice was slow, empathetic. Nathan hated himself so much for being the source, he didn’t even have to know to know.

She had whispered that last part but he had still caught it.

She glanced outside of the window again, he followed where she looked. It was always that lighthouse, she looked at it like it might fall any second.

“I’m sorry, Max...I-I can’t do this.” his voice is laced with pain as he begins to get up...feeling uneasy as he does.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She hoped another storm would come and destroy what little was left in this fucking town.

Come kill me now, motherfucker.

She thought to herself, in a tone so harsh she nearly cringed.

I don’t care anymore.

“I’m sorry, Max...I-I can’t do this.”   
This is the softest she has ever heard his voice, and her head turns to him in a matter of seconds. She grabs his hand with hers to stop him, eyes wincing at how cold he was.

“What? Why? Am I-” She begins to question him, he hates it because it feels like being interrogated again.

“No! It’s not you or anything...I just can’t...look at you the...same way.” That hurts way more than a goodbye.

He begins to sit again, this time he puts his head in his hands and his head rolls to both directions. Max notices the shaking of his leg. Anxiety. Panic.

“W-why…?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It feels like a blow to the stomach to hear her voice, it’s tiny, quiet…  
She always sounds desperate for answers.

He feels it stirring. Deep within him.  
“When I look at you, Max...I see that day. I-I see that stare that we shared as I was sat on the floor waiting for the police. I see me...taking away Chloe from you...and I hate myself more than you will ever know.”

Max jumps to respond to this, her head shaking while she talks in rambles.  
“It-it wasn’t your fault...You didn’t want to hurt her, I know that.” Max looks down to the ground.

“You see, how could you say that? How could you possibly defend...someone like me?”

He notices Tears are beginning to well into her eyes, her eyes are as blue as swimming pools that he would kill to jump into.

Even more so he notices the necklace...Chloe’s necklace, he remembers seeing her wear it when she was in his dorm, before he tried to…

Stop.

He bites his lip.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The way he says it is vile...he mentions himself as if he’s disgusting. Human Garbage. A vast disease that no genius scientist could cure, so he would always ruin the lives of others.

“Because...you were just a kid…” Max looks away as she starts crying now, her face heating up as the embarrassment settles in.

Nathan’s face fills with concern as he only stares, never knowing how to comfort someone, because his reliable method back then was always asking if they wanted to do drugs or some shit like that.

“We-we were all just kids...when everything happened. You were mentally ill, and you weren’t getting proper help...and she pushed you, because that’s-that’s...Chloe.” 

Her fingers wrap around the necklace on her neck, laughing to herself as she mentions Chloe’s name, she thought of all the times Chloe would push her for answers, or to do something completely stupid, but surely fun.

Nathan sighed, “That still...doesn’t excuse what I did, Max.” His bruised hands go into his hair, it looks a lot softer than Max had ever realized, she finds herself thinking about running her hands through his hair.

Nathan gets up from the booth, he carefully removes her sweatshirt, folds it and hands it to her.

“Max...I-I want to be friends with you...I really do.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her face gets paler as he speaks to her, trying to help her.

Her eyebrows arch down, and she’s angry, and he doesn’t like that at all.

“Then why won’t you?”

Confusion. The tone effortlessly drips from her lips.

“Because, Max...Don’t you see? I’m trying to help you here. I’m a fuck up. A reject. A Psychopath. I killed your best friend, and I helped a shitty teacher drug girls... for what? A fucking father figure. I don’t want to be friends with you...because there’s just more than even you could possibly know.”

It hurts looking at her face like that, all he can feel is intense shame.  
She draws circles on the table with her thin fingers, one hand supports her head, he notices that her hair is a little longer than last time.

Her freckles are still constellations, and as stupid as that sounds he’s never stopped calling them that. 

He turns around to leave, that’s when her hand lands on his wrist. It’s an unsettling, and familiar feeling that pulls him back in his recovery.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Where do you think you’re going?” He spits when he speaks, his tone is spiteful.

The boy, with tears in his eyes, grabs at his hair and shakes his head.

“I-I don’t want to be a part of this anymore.”  
He stares down at her body...disfigured, her eyes are wide and stare at the clouds above them.

“Nathan, it had to be done. This would’ve been over.” Mark pushes up his glasses and hates the feeling of helping Nathan out of his little tantrums.

He motions to Nathan and himself.  
“We would’ve been over. Don’t you love this little, bonding...activity of ours?”

Nathan’s face is red, steam from the ears, his fists clench up and he shouts in broad daylight.  
“No! No, I fucking don’t! You-you killed her! It’s all your fault she’s dead. I-i’m done.”

He turns to run away from the creep, but his hand wraps around his wrist, tight, bruising it, Nathan winces at the pain.

He goes to yank it away but he’s just not that strong.

“Let go of me! You fuckin-” His words are cut off by the sharp sting in his neck...he knows what has just happened, and his eyes widen in shock and surprise.

He crumbles, like a stack of paper cards, he falls down to the ground, attempting to move every limb, but shaking instead.

He goes to scream, to anybody, to anyone at all, but his mouth falls open and he just groans silently. A stray tear falls from the side of his eye.

The world starts slipping away as he allows himself to be dragged.

“This will make a beautiful shot...There’s friendship and lust...even in death.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan yanked his wrist away, for a moment Max could see the “old Nathan” in his eyes.

Rage.  
Fury.  
Fire.

He was beginning to shake, the smug face of Jefferson now in his mind once again.  
No matter where Jefferson was, he always left an everlasting effect on you even after.

“D-don’t touch me!” He yelled, garnering the attention of what little people remained in the diner.

Max stood closer together, wanting to shrink, tempted to use her powers and not grab him.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to.”

There was an unknown trauma in both of them.

Nathan held his wrist and flinched while he did it. He stopped shaking, closed his eyes, and shook his head. He backed away slowly, bumping into the booth behind him, before turning completely and making a quick exit.

Max watched as he ran across the street, climbing into the same truck he had, now painted a serene green.

She watched him peel out of the lot.  
Drive away.  
Leave, and most importantly,  
Leave her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Is there so much hate for the ones we love?  
> Tell me, we both matter, don't we?  
> You, it's you and me.  
> It's you and me won't be unhappy."
> 
> -Running up that hill, by Placebo.

“Ohhh, those eyes.”

“Hold that stare there!”

“Stay still!”

In her nightmares she was held captive again, her wrists taped together tighter than it actually had been. Her vision blurry, wobbly, unstable, part of waking up from the drug she was given.

She watched him pace across the floor, the camera in his hand, peering down at her. His glasses drooped down slowly to the middle of his nose, he pulled them up immediately. The sick smile plastered on his horrid face gave Max the indication that the photos were pleasing to him…

She tried screaming...but ended up emitting a moan faintly.  
Groggy.  
Tired.  
The room was spinning in circles.

Her head in an agonizing state, leaned on the cold, white, and hollow floor.

“It’s such a shame you’re going to die tonight. You could’ve been a pretty model, Maxine.”

There was that smirk.  
That fucking smirk.  
Rip it off, she wanted to rip it off.

She attempted a strong “Fuck you” but only groaned instead.

“What’s that, Maxine?”  
She narrowed her eyes.  
He kneeled down in front of her, his hand resting on his knee.  
“You’re waking up. What a shame. I can fix that though, don’t fret.”

The smirk.

He gets back up and walks over to the tray, picking up the syringe, Max’s eyes widen again, trying to kick him, she can only move her leg an inch. Sore, and very tired.

He leans down again, the needle drawing closer, and closer, until it’s in her skin.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She jolts up, her hand immediately touches her neck, detecting syringe marks but feeling nothing.  
Out of breath, and sweating, she lays back down and sighs.

Don’t cry.  
Don’t cry.  
Do not.  
Don’t give him that satisfaction.

She swings her legs off the corner of her bed, facing the darkness in her empty room. She gets up, turns the light on, and stares at the packed boxes in her room. Portland was pretty. Scenery stretching for hours, Green trees, peaceful skies.

And you’re still not happy.

“Shut up.” She mutters to herself, and only herself. 

She goes into the bathroom, turns the bath on, and submerges herself underwater until she can’t breathe, then comes back up for air.

Repeat.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan’s arms are crossed over his eyes, blocking out any light that might be present. He doesn’t try to sleep anymore, because he knows that he’ll just be lying there awake for hours on end.

A step back.  
That’s where he was in recovery.

It’s fine.  
It’s natural.  
You’ll be fine.  
Fuck.

He takes a deep breath. He couldn’t blame Max, sure she did trigger it to happen, but it’s not like she knew. He felt awful for the way he reacted to it. He let his past self take over him once again.

He promised himself he’d never get that bad again.

He cut back on cigarettes.  
Cut back on Alcohol.  
Stopped doing hard drugs.  
Took his pills daily, and cut back on the weed.

Everyone around him was proud, so why couldn’t he be proud of himself?

Probably because you kil-

No.

He turned his back to the wall, curling up into a ball, his arms under his face, sweating, thinking.  
The phone lit up in his face, and he groaned, his eyes squinting.

“Victoria…”  
He hadn’t talked to her in forever. It had only been a week, but still.  
Victoria had stuck through this with him for the whole thing. Helping him. Taking care of him. Calming him down.

He swiped it right, put it on speaker, too lazy to hold it.

“Hey Nathan” Her tired voice came through the speakers,  
“Hey Vic, what’s up?”  
“You’re not sleeping?” she sighed. Ouch.  
“No...I can’t.”  
“Nightmares?”

He lied.  
“No. Just...writing.”  
“Since when do you write?” her astonished voice echoed throughout the room, he could imagine a look of confusion on her face.  
“Since, like, a month ago. You know, some Edgar Allan Poe type shit.”  
A small chuckle. Better.  
“Well, I guess, you’re busy, so i’ll leave you to it.”  
He sat up in his bed, his legs crossed.  
“No, what’s up?”  
“I, uh, had someone looking for you, is all…”  
“Oh?”  
“It was...Max? I didn’t really know you guys talked.”

He scratched at his hand again.  
The feeling of her hand on his wrist burned.  
The feeling of his hand on his wrist burned even more so.

“Yeah. Just recently. I’m really trying to fix things.”  
“You’re doing great, nate.”  
“Sometimes, i’m really scared that i’ll end up being like that again.” His eyes drifted to the window, the lighthouse rotated, shined in his window, in his face.  
“You’re not.” Her voice was soft.  
“It was so dark...all the time.”  
“I know, Nate. I’m sorry I was a shitty friend to you while you were going through it.”  
“What? Vic, you were the only friend, the best friend I had.”  
“Nope. Nate, I let you do drugs while on meds, and Alcohol. I didn’t try to stop you from doing bad...things.”  
“Vic, it’s not like you could’ve. I would’ve snapped or something, I don’t know. As hard as that is to say. It was just bad.”

How could she possibly blame herself?  
She sighed, long, monotone, exhausted.  
Both of them.  
‘Well, I gave Max your phone number, she sounded like she really wanted to talk to you again. Happy to, even.”  
“I feel bad. I kind of blew up at her. Told her I didn’t wanna be friends because i’m...me.”  
He dug his fingernails into his arm, debated going harder, retreated.  
“Well, you better apologize, and be friends with her, nate. She only wants to help. Maybe, like you, this is her way of fixing things too, y’know? I’ll let you go back to sleep, i’ve got photos that need more grain.”  
Nathan nodded, and smiled, shared a goodnight, and hung up.

He wondered what Max was doing right now.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.”

She glanced at the empty shelves of her fridge, only water.  
Tapping on the refrigerator doors, her phone went off, she jumped back at the sound.  
Her heart clung to her chest, a mini heart attack.

“Unknown…” She whispered, her heart sunk to her stomach.  
She hesitantly answered.  
“H-hello…?” She stayed quiet, both of her hands holding the phone up to her ear, ready to scream at the voice, if it was to be...him.  
“Hey Max, it’s me.”  
A small smile.  
“Oh, Nathan. Hi! I guess Victoria told you my number...Well, I hope it was Victoria.” She scratched at her head, tilted sideways, she paced around the kitchen with all lights on.  
She hated the dark.  
“Yeah, she did. I don’t know why i’m calling so late, I guess I wanted to apolo-”  
“Do you wanna get something? Coffee? Food? Grocery shopping with me?”  
“Oh...yeah, sure. I’m not sleeping anyways. Should I meet you...wherever you are?”  
“You wanna drive to Portland?”  
“Absolutely, i’ve always wanted to see it. Only been once, I was a kid. It was awful. A business meeting type thing.”  
“Oh god, I can imagine. Well, my house address is 56 Fernrose ave. It’s like a little cottage thing, it’s blue...can’t miss it.   
“Alright, i’ll see you in about an hour, I guess.”  
“Alright. See you, Nathan.”  
“Bye, Max.”

Click.

Max felt her heart begin to get lighter, a small blush crept on her face, if chloe were here she’d be screaming at her.

Nathan fucking Prescott, Max, are you out of your mind?

Wonderfully so, my dear Chlo.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's the matter?  
> You don't have enough rain to make up your storm?  
> Whatcha look so sad for?  
> Where's the light I used to know?"
> 
> -Slip, by Elliot Moss

It was beautiful here. There were so many trees, flowers, everything.  
The houses were carefully built and were very...wealthy looking. He debated moving here instead of living at home in Arcadia hell.

His father had...kind of, took him back into the family.  
Apologizing to the very best of his professional abilities once he realized his part and took the stick out of his ass.  
Now he calls him “kiddo”, and Nathan hates it.  
But, it was better than absolutely hating your father, but there was things that Nathan would never forgive.  
Sean knew that as well.

He gripped the steering wheel, a weird feeling in his stomach that made him feel sick.  
Was he...nervous?  
He shook his head and continued driving, finally stopping once he spotted the tiny Blue cottage.  
It was definitely a style that screamed, Max.  
Sunflowers were planted carefully in pots outside, willow trees hung low and draped carefully on the roof. The lights in her house were on, he wondered how often they were on.

He fixed the collar of his jacket, he finally gathered the courage to throw it away.  
When he seen the red, all he seen was Blood...anger.  
Black was death.  
Yellow was part of the fire that had been stirring in his life.

Now, his jacket was plain black, you could associate it with a hooded sweatshirt, but whatever.  
He walked up the steps to her house and planted his finger on the button, but before he could press down, the door was open, and 2 inches below him was the pixie herself.  
“Hi.” She smiled, and it felt like punches. Punches he was glad to receive.  
“Uh...hey, Max. You ready to go?”  
“Sure.” She fixed her hair and strolled with him to his truck.  
“You don’t have a...car?”  
“Ah, no, I don’t. Everything is pretty close. My work, stores.”  
“So what store are we heading to?”  
“This little natural foods store off the highway I think, if you don’t mind. I have gas money if you do.” Her right arm clung to her left, her head tilted to the right.  
Swimming pool Blue eyes.  
Constellations.  
A gaze that trapped him in a web.  
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind driving, it’s soothing.” Scratching at his wrist again.  
She smiled.  
Punch one.

They were off, driving carefully down a dirt road to the highway, his hands gripping the steering wheel. An uncomfortable silence.

Interrupt it.

“I just wanted to say that i’m...sorry.”  
Max’s head turned to look at him, her gaze powerful.  
Punch two.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
She listened to him speak, he seemed to be rambling nervously.

“I do want to be friends with you...I guess i’m just scared.”  
“Of what?”

Chill out, nosy.

“I guess...falling back into my old self. I mean, you remember how I was. It’s not like all of this was long ago. It’s only been a little past a year…”  
“I was pretty scared of you.” She rested her head on his window, closing her eyes, listening to the rain that started to pour on the windows.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He turned to glance at her, her eyes closed, her lips parted slightly.  
Punch three.

“Yeah, i’m sorry...I was scared of myself a lot. Did a lot of drugs, partying, self destructive shit I cut back on.”  
“You don’t smoke anymore?”  
Her eyes opened, she rested her head on one hand.  
“No. I mean, sometimes. It depends on what. I cut back on cigarettes. Stopped hard drugs. Cut back on weed. Quit Alcohol.. I guess i’m just trying to live now. I felt like I would die at any second back then...looking back now, I think at that time i’d be happy.”  
Max looked down. Sadness.

Fuck, fuck.  
Stop it, you depressing piece of shit.

“But...i’m different now. Anger management. Got rid of that...fucking gun. Wanna hear something crazy?”  
Max smiled and looked at him again.  
Punch four.  
“My dad apologized to me. Fucking insane.”  
“Wow, that’s awesome. I’m really happy for you, Nathan. It’s like Kate always said, you know, there’s a way to be good again. Always.”  
“Yeah...i’m glad I found out the way before I ended up dead.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I was confused by the powers that be,  
> forgetting names and faces.  
> Passers by were looking at me,  
> as if they could erase it..."
> 
> -Meds, by Placebo

“Thanks for helping me again...I really appreciate it.”  
She smiled, tucked her dark brown hair behind her left ear.

Punch...fuck.  
He lost count of how many punches he felt in her presence.   
He was sure he’d never leave her grip.

“N-no problem. Why did you, uh, decide to go so...late?” Nathan mumbled, thanking the heavens above that it was midnight and she couldn’t see the red tint that had spread through his face, prominent in his cheeks.

“I...was awake. I didn’t have anything, because i’ve been so busy, I just haven’t really…” Max fumbled with her words, a tight grip on the reusable bag in her hands, full of organic food Nathan didn’t care enough about to purchase.

“Eaten? I’m the same way...I don’t really sleep that much anymore, I can’t eat. I don’t know…”  
They both felt it. The shame.  
They both wanted to just cry, and scream, and pull their hair out.  
Kill the prick Jefferson.  
Rip the smirk off his fucking face.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max felt more comfortable talking with him than anybody else...well, except...Chloe.  
They both went through the same thing, and on a similar level, they both understood each other’s pain.

“I wish I could tell you everything…” Max whispered, she shut her lips quickly, reacting as fast as she had said it.

She had this fatal flaw where she thought of something, and 9 times out of 10, she would say it. No matter how bad it was, or irrational.

“Did you say something?” Nathan stopped packing his truck to look at her, Max blushed and shook her head.

She took the time to study him while he loaded the backseat.

His hair had grew out a little bit, but she thought it was funny how he still kept it back, and how their was always that one strand that wouldn’t quite cooperate.

He had lost a little bit more weight in his face, his cheekbones were now...hollow, and his jawline was sharp. His body was still an intense kind of thin. Max wondered if it was the effect of all the drugs and stress he had been through.

But...when he looked at her, oh god when he looked at her.  
That’s when her knees would lock and her pupils would increase within size because this was something she was slowly realizing she liked.

His eyes were still that dazzling shade of Blue, Max had always been in awe at how light they were...soothing.

His hands were strong, she could only guess. Fading bruises covered his knuckles, scars on the surface.

She noticed how he bit his lips a lot, and how sometimes his hand would tremble.  
He always looked like he was stuck…  
Just like her they were stuck in the past...in time.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stood back, eyeing the pile of groceries in his backseat, his sweating hands on his knees.   
“Alright, well, that’s it...shall we?” He chuckles as he smiled, extending his hand to the temporarily staring girl, she very slowly took his hand.

He opened the car door for her, gesturing to her as if she were royalty, which only made her laugh, which only made him fall more in love.

“When you mentioned that you, uh, didn’t sleep tonight...do you, you know, sleep?” Nathan groaned silently to himself at how stupid his question was.

She’s like you, dumbass.  
You both suffer from trauma, and you handle it in similar ways.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s been pretty...hard. Dealing with everything. With Jefferson, and Kate...and”

Tears in swimming pool eyes.  
Nathan’s body numbed at the mention of him.  
His grip tightened on the steering wheel.  
Loud music played in the background, he turned it down so they could both focus.  
Think.  
Breathe.

“Chloe…” Her voice had died down from a usual talk to a whisper.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max could see Nathan in the corner of her eye as she stared out the window.  
It was hard saying her name, it had been so long since she had actually said it out loud.

Chloe.  
Chloe.

“Look out….”  
BAM  
“Chloe…”

“No!” She found herself shouting, and immediately placed her hands over her mouth.  
“Max, are-are you okay?” Nathan looked over to her, clearly confused.  
“C-can we pull over, please?”  
He nodded as he flipped the switch for the emergency brakes, slowing down on the side, the cars fled past them. A whirlwind of Red lights, City lights. Lights.

Max ran to the side, dropping down to her knees she began to empty out what little she had even eaten that day.

Empty.  
Empty.  
Empty.

Chloe.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan quickly walked over to her aid, he pulled back her hair and rubbed his hand up and down her back as she gagged, and choked, she threw up nothing.

She stopped, and fell onto the side, wiping tears from her eyes.  
There was more to what had happened with her than he knew.

“I-i’m sorry…” Max covered her eyes with her hoodie, bringing her knees closer to her chest. She reminded him of how he used to be, and prayed that she would end up different.

Please, please.  
Don’t let her become as fucked up as me.

“Max…” he whispered, he found himself pulling her into him, his arm that was around her shoulder now on the side of her head, his cheek on hers. He forced her to look up at him with a tilt of her chin.

“It’s not your fault, Max...It’s mine.” His eyes didn’t dare leave hers.  
Swimming pool Blue.  
Drowning.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She tried to process what he was saying, but everything was just pouring through her head, through one ear, it came out as quick out the other.

He was talking to her, she could see his lips moving, his face was a whole range of emotion. But mostly just confusion and fear.

His blue eyes never left hers.  
His hands never left the side of her head.  
The wind was picking up as it began to feel like it was whipping her around.

Was this real?

“Max, Please!”  
“Please save me!”  
“What the fuck?”

A series of her voice echoing in her head, things she said before she died, before Max saved her, to ultimately let her die again.

“Max Caulfield, don’t you forget about me.”

“Never.” Max felt her lips move, and could only assume she whispered.

The world was spinning, just like in her nightmares.  
Blurry.  
Cold.

Dark.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Covering the cuts with our hands.  
> Don’t forget to smile, if you can.  
> This is bad for us"
> 
> -VCR Machine, by Elliot Moss

Nathan finished wiping the remaining blood that dripped in a large amount.  
Nosebleeds.  
He used to get these all the time, but hopefully it was for another reason.

She was out cold.  
He shook her. Screamed. Resisted punching a wall, but the anger was manifesting.

3 steps back in his recovery.

 

He paced around in her room, letting himself very carefully touch things.  
On her desk was a picture of her and...Chloe.  
He put it back down quickly and turned himself away.

Did he deserve this?  
To be happy?  
Here he was recovering from his old illnesses and habits, while there was a girl six feet under the ground because of him.

It’s all his fault.  
His.  
His.  
Not hers.

He stumbled to the bathroom, tears in his eyes.  
Groaning to himself.  
He forced himself to look in the mirror.

Take a look.  
Pathetic.  
Piece of shit.  
You think you can get rid of the past, just like that Nathan?  
You will never escape me.  
For as long as you breathe, you will never be happy.  
Fucking joke.

In a war with himself, the Old Nathan had a tight grip around his fucking throat, and he couldn’t breathe.  
Looking in the mirror he seen it again, that flicker in his eyes.  
A craving.  
For violence, death, drugs...alcohol. Numb.  
He gripped at his hair,   
“No. No. No. No.”  
Fucking Joke.  
Pathetic.  
You’ll never be happy.

“No!” His fist lunged forward, and as soon as he realized what he had done the glass was already broken, fragments in his fist as he pulled it out, cringing as he did so.

He winced at the pieces of glass that were now in his hand. 

He heard it, quickly, rapid.

All your fault...not hers.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was on the couch this time, slouched on the arm, she expected duct tape, but got zip ties around her hands instead, more painful.  
Much more.

Her eyes roamed around, there was nobody here.  
Just an open file cabinet with those blood red binders. The bright lights still flashed in her eyes.  
There was nobody here, but the walls started to move...speaking, screaming.

“Max, please!”

“Please help me!”  
“Stay still!”

Jefferson. Chloe.

“Chloe! I’m trying, i’m trying!”  
She pulled her hands apart as hard as she could muster, several times, unsuccessful, her wrists now bleeding, sore. She tried to stand, but there was a weight that held her down.

“Max! Please! Don’t let me die again!”  
Tears trickled down, one after the other. Max shook her head, struggled. She couldn’t breathe.  
The weight was suffocating her.

It felt like someone was scratching at her wrists, they were burning, bleeding.

With a blink of her eyes, Chloe was on the floor at her feet, hands held together in duct tape. Eyes wide with fear, her Blue hair once full of life, dead and limp.  
She moved her arms, her body, tried to shake free.

Jefferson twitched.  
That smirk.  
That fucking smirk.

He pulled out an object, if it weren’t for the shine in the steel she would’ve remained clueless.  
He aimed it at chloe who began to scream in muffles.  
“Max! Please!”

BANG

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The loud noise had taken her from an awful nightmare. She had launched out of her bed with her hands low, ready to attack, if she knew how to...  
She tip toed to the bathroom, her sweatshirt clung to her bones.  
She was cold.  
Aching.

The first thing she seen was the blood...A lot of it.  
So much that her bathroom suddenly looked like a crime scene.

The next she seen was the glass, clearly broken. A hole through the middle, the shards on the floor.

The last thing she seen, and the hardest was Nathan sitting on the floor, he held his bleeding hand close to his chest, his eyes stared straight ahead.

Completely oblivious to her existence. Tear tracks on the side of his eyes.  
“Nathan…” She breathed out, stretching her hand to him was when she noticed the scratches.

She had several scratches up and down her arm, but more on her wrist. They were red, seering, bleeding still, but this wasn’t her concern.

He didn’t respond.  
Stayed still, quiet, numb.  
She crouched down beside him, rested her hand on his shoulder, and fell back quickly at his reaction.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!” His palms dug into the glass as he moved backwards, his feet kicking at her.

“Nathan!” He was shaking faster with every rapid breath, blood spilling from the various cuts, his skin growing paler and paler.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
He was stuck.  
Stuck.  
There was no other way to explain it.

“I want you...to get, Rachel.”  
The teacher shoved a file into his chest, and Nathan took it with a frown on his face.  
“B-but…”  
“But...nothing. I do not care if she is your friend. She is our next subject.”  
“I can-”  
Jefferson wrapped his hand around Nathan’s neck, his thumb pressing into his throat, attempting to choke him, warning him.  
He glared at Nathan through the lens of his glasses.  
“But nothing.”  
He shoved Nathan away with the release of his grip, Nathan shook his head and left the room.

“Nathan...I don’t feel so-”  
Nathan caught her as soon as she began to fall. The cup in her hand fell to the floor, and the poisoned contents spilled out of it. He had asked her to a private section of the party so that they’d be alone when she fainted, now he picked her up in his arms and walked her to his truck. Placing her in the front seat, Nathan debated pulling the gun out and just killing himself right there…

“Nathan...Please, don’t do this. Please.” Her soft eyes glanced at him and she might’ve just blew his fucking brains out right there, because that’s what all of this felt like.  
Her arms moved slightly but never left her stomach, he could see her moving them around in the grip of the duct tape, struggling, flinching.   
He had a tight grip around her ankles and dragged her towards the junkyard, an empty, desolate place where Jefferson had preferred an outside shot once more.  
“Please.” She whimpered.  
“Please! Don’t make this harder for me than it is….”  
“Y-you don’t have to do this,” Her voice was trembling, the sudden realization of her soon inevitable death creeping in.  
“You don’t understand.” His eyes never looked at her, always away.

The grip on his wrist.  
The burning in the back of his throat.  
That hospital smell.  
Her.  
He turned around to escape from Jefferson, go to the police, his dad, somebody else...anybody, but he had wrapped his hand around Nathan’s wrist and would not let go no matter how much he had started squirming.  
That smirk.  
The pinch.  
Nathan fell down, crashing onto the ground of the earth.  
Mumbling a string of incoherent words, and only groaning.  
Letting himself be positioned.  
He could feel her arm on him. Her arm. Her limp arm.  
Darkness.  
Sweet relief.

Give me sweet relief.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You've got a warm heart,  
> you've got a beautiful brain.  
> But it's disintegrating,  
> from all the medicine."
> 
> -Medicine, by Daughter

Max slumped over in the chair, folding the sleeves around her hands so they were no longer seen. She had paced around the room, nervously, for almost 40 minutes.

Was he okay?  
What had even happened?  
How much would it cost to fix the fucking mirror?

A doctor came out with a tight grip around his clipboard, with spots of blood on his coat, and gloves.  
Max waved him down in a panic.  
“Excuse me, do you know the status of...Nathan Prescott?”  
“Ah, yes, you must be Max Caulfield. He’s awake, but heavily sedated due to how much blood there was, and how many stitches we had to give him...so, he’s been talking about you. If you’ll follow me, you’re more than welcome to sit by his side. He should be alright to leave as soon as the drugs start to die down...i’d give it another…”  
The doctor moved his head around, as if to shake the thought.  
“2 hours, or so.”

Well, fuck work, then.

Max thanked the doctor as soon as he led her into his room.  
She quietly pulled up her chair, resting her hand on Nathan’s as she did so.

He turned to look at her.  
“I-i’m sorry, Max...this is why I didn’t want to be friends, I get...I don’t know, stuck, sometimes.”  
“What do you mean, stuck?”  
“Like I can’t escape...the memories. There’s a lot more to the story than what everyone was told. There was things I refused to talk about. Not even to Victoria.”  
What could be so horrible he kept it from Victoria?  
“When Jefferson had killed Rachel...I tried to leave. I told him I didn’t wanna do this anymore, because I didn’t think he would murder someone…” His head rolls to the side as if he’s too ashamed to look at Max, his voice laced with betrayal, confusion. “At the time I trusted him with a lot more than just my dad’s fortune. He grabbed my wrist. That’s why I got so mad in the diner, because you grabbed my wrist, and for a second it was like I was back in the Junkyard, yelling at him to let me go. He didn’t. I turned around, still trying to free myself, and then there was this...sharp sting in my neck.”

Max couldn’t believe this, at all.

 

“I knew he had drugged me. I fell down. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. Tried to move, but I just couldn’t. Everything was beginning to become so blurry. Before I blacked out, I felt her arm on me. He was positioning me to take a photo with her dead body. My own best friend.”  
“...I’m so sorry.”  
“It’s not your fault, Max. You weren’t the one that started this anyways.”  
Silence. Painful.

Max ran her fingers through his hair, by the small smile on his face she could tell it was a feeling that was calming to him.

“You’ve been through a lot...why don’t you close your eyes and get some sleep? When you wake up we’ll be ready to leave.”

Nathan could only nod his head once before he started to drift away into a land he hardly ever visited...sleep.

Max stood up from her chair, releasing a shaky breath she had been holding in since he revealed this intimate piece of information. She felt sick to her stomach. A burning at the back of her throat just thinking about it.

What if she had been posed with Chloe? She would be just as angry as Nathan was too.

She pulled out her phone, slowly dialing a number she never thought she would willingly.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her phone began to ring and she took this moment as a sweet release from the possession by her computer.

She answered, curious and careful, because the number was private.  
“Hello, Victoria Chase speaking, how can I help you?”  
“Hey Victoria, it’s just me…”  
“Oh, Caulfield. What’s up?”  
“Uh, do you have a car? I’m in need of some dire assistance and i’ve yet to get one.”

Victoria tilted her head to the left, flipping away a strand of her honey blonde hair.  
“I do, Max.”  
She thought of the worst case scenario.  
“What’s wrong with Nathan?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max was surprised at how quick she was able to guess it was about Nathan...she now knew they were closer than she had ever thought.

“He punched a hole through my mirror when I was...sleeping.”  
Max could hear a heavy sigh, and an inaudible mumble on the other side.  
“How bad was the damage, Caulfield?”  
“Pretty bad, Victoria. There was blood everywhere, and he was really out of it when I found him. I touched his shoulder, and he just lost it...It’s like I was trying to calm the fire that was Prescott in Blackhell.”  
“Oh god, that bad...I’ll come and get you guys, where are you?”  
“We’re in the Portland hospital, i’ll be out in the hall...so, see you when I see you.”  
“You too, Max.”  
Max took the phone away from her ear,  
“Wait!-”  
“Yeah, Victoria?”

“Thank you for taking care of him, Max. He’s really trying to fix things, make amends for everything he’s ever done. It’s really hard for him.”  
“He’s doing a great job.” Max fumbled with the thread on the hem of her shirt, “better than I am...I’ll see you, Vic.”

She heard Victoria utter a single “mhmm” and hang up her phone.

Max walked over to the side of Nathan, observing him cautiously. She glanced at his hand, and hesitantly traced the various outlines of multicolored bruises on him. Nathan made a single noise from his mouth and Max immediately retreated, afraid of another harsh reaction.

Max then sighed as his head turned to her, his tired eyes closed and in her direction.

Max slowly leaned over again, possessed by wishful thinking.  
She quietly placed her lips on his forehead, removing herself quickly before he started to stir.  
“Get some sleep...You deserve it.”  
Max began to walk away, her footsteps soft and small, but the weight on her shoulders irrefutably heavy.

“One day. One day I promise, I will tell you the truth.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Victoria rushed into the hospital, her earth like green eyes scanning the room for none other than Max Caulfield.

She, once again, felt like a failure as a best friend. She should’ve visited him when he said he was afraid of turning back into his old self.

She pulled up her silk pajama pants by the waist, tying the knot tighter on her robe. Victoria had become less afraid to do things like this as the year went by, finding inspiration in Max’s strong ability in not giving a single fuck about what anyone thought.

Within a minute, Max returned from the hall wearing a small frown. She wore a plain white shirt that revealed the light freckles splattered on her collarbones and chest, the shirt was stylishly tucked into a plain pair of denim jeans, a small rip in the knee. Victoria was even more impressed at the fact that Max had finally ditched the skull print converse for a pair of standard Black and White converse instead.

“Max! Hey.” Victoria sprinted to Max, her hands resting on her shoulders.  
Max’s eyes remained down at the floor, her eyes were puffy, her nose slightly tinted.

Max wrapped herself around a very uncomfortable Victoria, Victoria hugged back knowing that she needed it, not minding the temporary awkwardness.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Max pulled away when she noticed Victoria tense up, wiping at her eyes as she stepped back.

“Ho-how’s Nathan?” Victoria’s voice was coated with worry, a sister concerned for her brother.  
The closest to family Nathan ever had.

“He’s sleeping the medicine off currently. When he wakes up we can leave. Do you mind taking us to my place? I don’t really wanna just leave him at his house alone.”

Victoria nodded, a worried frown replaced with a reassuring smile.  
“Of course. Thank you Max.”  
“For what, though?”  
“For taking care of him when I know you can hardly do the same to yourself.”  
“But, I-”  
“It’s been a hard year...for all of us. So, just say thanks and take the compliment, Caulfield.”

Max chuckled as she remotely shook her head.  
“Thanks, Vic.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I've been waiting for you.  
> I'm so tired and I need to lay down,  
> but you're traveling high speeds,  
> and you're fast.  
> Too fast to chase anymore."
> 
> -Highspeeds, by Elliot Moss

One thing Max noticed about Nathan, was that he loved nature.  
When they had left the hospital, he was still a little out of it but enough to leave.  
He tapped his fingers on the window (to Victoria’s loudly noted dismay) and would just whisper to no one, “So many trees.”

Max was a bit startled when his hand stretched out to hers, his face not turned to her direction but beckoning for the feel of her palm on his.   
Max gave in, setting her hand on his, she noticed a small smile on his face.

Victoria glanced in the mirror, chuckling under her breath, with a sure feeling no one could hear it.

“So, this is where you live?” Victoria pulled outside of her home, her hand pointing to the front garden.  
“Uh yeah, it’s cozy here. Plus, it’s not in Arcadia.”  
“It’s definitely you…”  
Silence.  
“No offense, of course!”

Max stepped out of her SUV, opening Nathan’s door after shutting hers lightly. Nathan nearly had fallen out if it weren’t for Max’s quick reflexes.  
“Woah...easy there, nate.” Victoria called out to him, her eyebrows arched down and chewing the inside of her lip.  
He flicked his hand to her, Victoria only laughed and rolled her eyes.  
“I called Sean...Nathan’s dad. He said he’ll pick him up tomorrow morning and that he’s sorry for the inconvenience.”  
“Alright. Thanks once again, Victoria.”

Victoria reached over and yanked the door shot, “No problem, Max. Keep me posted?”  
Max could only nod as she attempted to get him to her door.  
Victoria smiled and finally pulled away, flying down the road at a speed that would surely get her ticketed. 

“Nathan, can’t you...cooperate?” Max dragged him as he mumbled words she couldn’t hear over the sound of her heavy, and long drawn breaths.  
“...nah.”  
“Of course, what did I expect?”  
She sat him down on the bench outside of her home as she inserted the keys into the lock and shoved the door open.

Max forced Nathan up once again, his arm over her shoulders and her arm around his waist.  
She let him drop down onto the couch as she leaned against the wall to catch her breath.  
“Jesus...christ…”  
Nathan chuckled as he turned on his side, his eyes open and peering at Max.  
Max, her face heating up, turned to grab a blanket, then proceeded to spread it over him.   
The sound of the fan rotating was the only noise you could hear besides them breathing together.  
“Max?”  
Max tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sat on the coffee table in front of him.  
“Yeah?”  
“Why do you care?”  
“Huh?”  
“About me?”  
“Oh...I-I just...do.”  
Nathan looked down at the scratches on Max’s arms, the self created scars from her horrid nightmares.   
His hand grabbed at her wrist, and she felt herself tug away automatically.

“Stay still!”  
Echoes in her head. Again.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Nathan noticed scratches on her wrist, similar to the ones he gave himself a little time ago.  
Against better judgement he grabbed at her wrist to observe, feeling a twinge of guilt when she started to tug.

He ran his thumbs over the scars, still bright red...fresh, recent.  
He noticed that her eyes had started to go wide in a miniature panic, zoning out.  
Where did she go?  
Where does her mind wander off to?

He let go of her wrist, and she cradled it with her opposite hand.  
“Sorry.’ He whispered to her, hoping she would focus on him once again.

“No, no. It’s alright.”   
Nathan started to sit upright, the medicine wearing off of him minute by minute.  
“What happened there?”  
“Nightmares.”  
“Oh.”  
Nathan stared around her house, a bunch of plants. Plants on shelves, on the floor, in the windows.  
Portraits and other pieces of photography scattered on peach colored walls.  
“I’m sorry.” Max looked down at her shoes, Nathan wondered what she could possibly mean.  
“For what?  
“For making this super awkward.”

Nathan placed his hand on hers, a series of fireworks going off in his head, his heart thumping harder than the drugs had ever made it.   
He clenched his opposite hand, letting go of the grip immediately as the pain exploded.  
Stitches, right. Fuck.

Max started to lean forward, Nathan mimicking her hesitant movement.  
So close to each other’s faces, they could each see the blush on their cheeks.  
Their breath hitting the surface of their face, their eyes observing every feature and specific detail like an optical zoom. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Was this finally happening?  
Max had lingered over this dream for the week they had been talking to each other.  
The moment was slow, timid, and tender.

For a moment it was two utterly damaged kids with feelings that were meant for normal people.

Fuck it.

Max placed her lips on his, at a rapid speed, aching at how long it was to take to get a soft kiss.

Nathan lifted his hand to her neck, for once Max didn’t flinch.  
There was no sound.  
Only the fan, and the wind, the feeling of the cool breeze aiding them in the warmth they were experiencing together.

It was a loving moment.  
A genuine feeling of affection, love. A craving.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Nathan pulled away suddenly, awkwardly.  
He watched as Max’s finger immediately went up to her lip in a clear state of shock.  
“I-i’m sorry.” His voice quivered as he looked at any other object besides her.  
“For...what?” She shook her head slightly, still mesmerized by the lasting feeling of his lips on hers.

“I just...I…”

Max quickly ended his stammering with a swift kiss yet again.

“Get some sleep.”  
Nathan nodded, lying down on his back with his hand behind his head.  
Confused.  
Relieved.

Happy?  
Was this happiness?  
Had he finally gotten it?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It was so bright,  
> so bright,   
> so bright,  
> that I forgot about the dark."
> 
> -Best Light, by Elliot Moss  
> \---------------------------------------------------  
> A/N: This is a very, very late chapter update, i'm so sorry! Been super stressed with finals coming up soon. Blegh.

“Prescott, I never thought i’d see you down here again!”  
He’s rewarded with a shining grin and a painful slap on the back, Nathan stumbles forward from the impact.  
Shooting Hayden a glare, he dusts off his shoulder, “What the fuck ever, are you going to let me in or not?”  
Nathan gave up on trying to recover, what was the point in trying when he was always restarting?  
Right now he needed to drink to forget, and smoke to feel.  
Forget about the taste of her lips on his, strawberries. Pleasure. A familiar, and strong craving to count just how many constellations were on her body.  
Peering into swimming pool eyes. Fighting the tide.

Hayden shuffled to the side, taken back by Nathan’s restored attitude.  
“All bark, no bite, Prescott.”  
“Shut up.”  
Nathan shoved past him and was greeted with bright lights that soon would be the cause of a headache.

Deep in his pocket he felt his phone vibrating, he stood by the entrance fishing it out to hold in his shaking hands.

Victoria. Again. This was only his 6th missed call, with an impressive 10 messages from none other than Victoria.

Vic: where r u?  
Vic: answer me now plz  
Vic: max and me r worried abt u 

Max.   
To think he had almost forgotten about her name.  
Even the syllables forming were too good for Nathan.  
There was no logical explanation as to why she even saved him.

He was as good as dead anyways.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
When Max had woke up in the morning she discovered the note taped to her fridge.

Nathan wrote down an apology, a quick sentence of gratitude and had even left a gracious amount of money for Max to fix the hole he had left.

Now, Victoria and Max paced around in her living room. Their eyes checking the window every few minutes for any sign of his silhouette against the setting sun.

“He won’t answer his phone...fucking asshole.” Victoria slammed her phone onto the oak coffee table, the leg of it shaking...a sure sign it needed to be replaced soon enough.

“You’re sure he’s not at home?”  
“I called his mom, and his dad. They checked the whole house, the barn...even the fucking forest. They sent police to the lighthouse. He’s not anywhere in Arcadia.”  
“What if he ran away?”  
Victoria laughed,   
“Nathan wouldn’t run away alone. He’s a firm believer in two’s company.”

Max tried calling once more.  
Voicemail.  
She gripped the fabric of her sweatshirt, the comfort she had found in such an angry boy fleeting.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Their fists were slamming down on the tables as they encouraged him to chug the whole bottle down in one swift sip.  
Smiles on everyone’s faces, squinted eyes glazed over. Smoke wafted through the whole room, hot and packed with a sea of people.  
Loud music interrupting his train of thought.

He shouldn’t be doing this.  
He had already relapsed.  
Drinking, smoking.  
Was there anything he could actually stick to?

“Come on man...just a few more.”  
“I-I don’t know.” Nathan clenched his fist as it started to shake.

Here we go.  
That itch to hit something.  
Somebody.  
To see the blood, that visual representation of his internal conflict.

He turned to the guy behind him with a smirk on his face, and could feel as he let himself become a monster again.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Nathan! The minute you answer your phone you are going to get an earful! Believe me.”  
Victoria screamed into Max’s pillow with frustration as her phone fell onto the floor, out of her grip.

Max rested her hand on Victoria’s shoulder,   
“It’s okay, we’ll find him.”  
“Max...you just don’t get it.”  
“Get what?”  
Vic sat up on the bed, rubbing her head with her manicured hands.  
“The last time Nathan disappeared like this I picked him up at the police station for attempted theft and battery and assault.”  
Max glanced down at her fingers.  
“Oh.”

Victoria nodded her head as she stood up from the bed.  
“I’ve gotta go to work, Max. Tell me if you get into contact with Nathan. Please.”  
“Alrig-”  
“Promise me.”  
Victoria extended her pinky finger to Max as she stared with wide and concerned eyes.  
Max wrapped her pinky around Victoria’s.  
With that, Vic was already out the door.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Never come back again, Prescott!”  
“Whatever! Watch this stupid fucking shit hole fall apart without me.”  
Nathan spit out onto the ground at the shoes of Hayden who glared at him from above.  
He turned around after adjusting his collar again. His face hurt a lot, surely he had bruises and cuts that must have been bleeding but he was still numb from the alcohol. His stomach warm with the contents of Whiskey, and other types of poison.

He pulled out his phone in time to hear it ringing, this time he had answered.  
Catching himself on the wall before he collapsed.  
“H-hellooo??” He hiccupped as he slid down, landing in a puddle of rainwater.  
“It’s about time you answered!”  
“Maxine, the girl of my dreams. How’re ya?”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Are you...are you drunk?”  
She heard a hiccup come from wherever he was.  
“Maybe a lil’.”  
“Are you fucking kidding me? Me and Victoria have been looking for you for hours and all you did was get shitfaced when you’re trying to recover. I bet you beat someone up too, didn’t you?  
“...maybe.”  
Max could only groan as she fell into the cushions of her sofa.   
“How close are you to where I live?”  
“Uhhh...i don-maybe like...a few blocks away.”  
“Well...get here.”

Another hiccup.  
“I’ll try...maxine.” He drew her name out, making her look down in disgust, fighting every urge to tell him...Max, never Maxine.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
He gripped onto anything that would keep him up, his vision was wobbly, and his head was spinning.  
Fuck, he missed this feeling.  
The feeling of just nothing. No troubles. No worries. No memories.  
Just...nothing.

He just barely made out a sigh as the sight of Max’s house crept closer into view, he didn’t look forward because he didn’t want to risk seeing her disappointed face peering out of her silk curtains.

Disappointed.  
He disappointed everyone.

No.  
Not this shit again, Nathan.

He stumbled up her stairs, lightly tripping on the last step. He could hear her door open very slowly, and all he could muster was to stand up straight and gaze into her eyes.

Swimming pool blue eyes.  
Drowning, always drowning.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'd like to sincerely apologize for how long I've been gone, it wasn't intentional. But i'm back with 3 parts and more for the future! Please comment some ideas you'd like to see that you feel fit the story well, as i'm suffering from severe writer's block. Yikes. Thank you so much for your support!
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> "You and me,  
> we're in this together now.  
> None of them can stop us now,  
> we will make it through somehow."
> 
> -We're in this together, by Nine Inch Nails

His eyes were averted down, but Max was standing close enough to notice how glazed over they were.

He was either high or drunk, but knowing Nathan, he was most certainly both.  
Max looked down and noticed how up to his knees, his clothes were wet.  
There was a trail of blood that dried from under his nose.  
Max sighed, she shook her head and could only observe him.

Her lips stayed shut, as she tried to think of anything to say to him.  
What could she say to make any of this okay?

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
He hated this.  
Every second that she stared him down added to the rage stirring inside of him.  
He wished she would just kick him to the curb and get it over with.

“Are you gonna say something?”  
Nathan retorted at max, his fists clenching, too buzzed to notice the pain coming from his stitches.  
He didn’t dare look into her eyes, ashamed at how much pain he would see.

“We were looking for you for hours. Victoria was really concerned, and I guess i’m just…”  
“Ashamed. Go figure, Caulfield.”  
He rolled his cloudy blue eyes as the wind swept through him.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She stepped back at how he had said her name, it was exactly like when he had hated her.  
She knew he was drunk, but his snippy tone cut through her.  
He continued to release his anger, steam coming from his ears...he took a step in, and max took a step back.

“You and everybody else are just ashamed of me...You know, I-I can’t think of anyone I haven’t let down in the past year, which is why I think I should just go.”  
Max watched as he placed his hands into his pockets and turned around, taking slow and unsteady steps towards her door.

Max gripped his shoulder to prevent him from leaving her.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Hey. Leave him alone!”

Nathan turns around with his hand pressed against her cheek, pure rage inside of his eyes.  
A fire in them. A lust for violence.  
His mouth is turned into a snarl as he threatens her,

“Nobody tells me what to do. Not the principal, not my parents, or that whore in the bathroom!”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max removes her grip from him immediately, cradling her hand into her chest, she stumbles back as she suddenly feels dizzy. All these memories were always just flooding back in eerily similar situations.  
Even worse, is that to everyone else they had never happened.

“You-you’re not leaving, Prescott.”  
Max’s words come out wobbly, and she notices how she feels weak, the feeling so sudden it throws her off edge.  
“Why, Caulfield? Why can’t you just let me go?”  
She regains her posture, as her arms drop by her sides.

Nathan turns around once again, eyes resting on the carpet of her living room.  
The door is still open, serving its purpose as an emergency exit.  
Max sees the trees dancing, the moon hovering behind the evergreen leaves.  
His voice is low, and quiet as he speaks.  
“You saved me that day, when i was going to jump off that cliff. You held me, as you walked me to two whales, bought coffee, and tried to talk to me.”

His fists unclench, Max looks down and sees he’s bleeding from his stitches.  
Blood running.  
Red.  
Flowing.  
Bullets.  
Chloe.

She shakes her head slightly, hoping to rid the awful, and never ending memories, that like a lost dog always find their way back.

“You’ve done so much for me...so, I can leave now.”  
“No.”  
Max is surprised by how stern her voice comes out, sounding similar to a command than to a plead.  
“You’re not going anywhere.”

When Nathan turns around again,  
Max grabs the hand that isn’t bleeding.  
Caressing his knuckles with her thumb.

“We’re in this together.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The words hit him like a wave.  
Nathan has never known anybody that has ever cared this much.

Stunned silent, he can only nod as they look into each other’s eyes.  
He observes her, carefully, glazed eyes clinging to hers as if they’re his life support.

Her swimming pool eyes, that he is always drowning in.  
The feeling of water in his lungs is surprisingly pleasurable, he finds himself farther from the rope to pull him back to safety.

The freckles, the constellations that scatter across her cheeks, dabbling in the galaxy.

The red tint that dances across her nose, fades into her cheeks.  
Nathan can’t tell if he’s blushing or not either, surely, he’s heating up.

Her lips.  
Pale pink, parted, the corners turned up slightly.  
Tempting.  
Inviting.

In a drunken stupor, and plagued with false confidence, he begins to slowly lean in.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Max doesn’t move as his face inches closer to hers.  
She’s rigid.  
Still.  
But, urging for it to happen faster.

They’ve already kissed before, max placing her lips on his the day he got back from the hospital.  
The nature enthusiast still alive in her mind.

Her heart picks up speed, and time is slowing down.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Nathan places a hand on her left cheek, careful to leave his bloodied hand down to prevent staining.

It’s Nathan this time that moves in faster, landing his lips on hers in a flash.

The imaginary fireworks are going off in his head, and he doesn’t know what Max is thinking, but for a second he envisions sunshine, and a field of flowers.  
The sun is beaming down on him, and it makes his skin a pleasant kind of warm.

He sees himself holding hands with Max, and they’re both...laughing, sat down on a blanket overlooking the water together with tired eyes.  
And he’s smiling, and for the first time...it’s real.

He sees a future in his head.  
One where he’s alive.

Nathan pulls back, forehead on hers.  
Eyes locked onto each other, breathless, smiling.

“Max...I think I…”

He doesn’t know how to word it, stuck on multiple ways to phrase it, to make it sound sweet, and poetic.

“I think I want a future with you….with us.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter involves mention of suicide, blood, and murder. Heavy stuff, I know. Read at your own risk. Enjoy!
> 
> \---------------------------------------------------------------  
> "You're cyanide,  
> cause the only thing you told me was...  
> They'd never find my body in the basement."
> 
> -Serpents, by Grieves

The words were still ringing in her ears, as prominent as when he had said it.  
A phrase that made her heart skip,  
And the background fade from view, until it was just them.

She stumbled over her words, her speech just as clumsy as herself.  
Fumbling with the right words to say, and deciding with nothing.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.  
A future.  
Before the words were uttered out loud, Max never thought much about this concept.

She figured it would consist of a flow of work, taking care of her plants, and terrible nightmares.  
She figured it’d be darkness, and the constant flash of images in her head.  
And words.  
And noises.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan didn’t bother asking Max to spend the night.  
So, instead he kissed her once more, resisting the urge to do it again.  
And then again.  
And then again.  
Convinced that her lips was the cure for his instability, happiness.  
So close to him that he could see it, could reach it with open arms.

He laid beside her, amazed at how she was already asleep.  
Her room was peaceful, dark, and surprisingly cluttered.

Their hands were laced together, as he laid on his back,  
Eyeing the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing here.  
He lays here and thinks, as if he doesn’t do that all the time anyways.

Why waste so much time on him?  
So much effort?  
Sleep?

He spent a majority of his life feeling...worthless.  
Conditioned to believe he was nothing, would never be.  
Sure of the fact that he would never have a future, and if he did it would involve a life of misery.  
Pain.  
Surely, it would end with a gun.

His hands tremble as he remembers holding one, on the night that Rachel died.  
Tears slipped down the sides of his face, he kicked his pill bottles over, screamed in his pillow, and punched holes in the wall that would ultimately be covered by posters anyways.

 

It seemed to gleam, just the appearance of it was overwhelming.  
Screaming at him.  
Do it.  
End it.  
It could be over, all of this.

He trudged his way over, held the only source of power he ever had in his hands.  
Staring at it, silent, his breath beginning to become heavy.

He remembers how it felt against his head, and how cold it was.  
How tightly he shut his eyes, before he threw it at the wall, and fell to his knees.

But, here he was.  
Alive.  
Recovering.  
Laying in a bed next to someone who is more beautiful than the universe itself.  
Infinite in compassion, love, forgiveness.

She stirs in her sleep, pieces of her hair falling as she moves her head, ends up closer to him.

Nathan decides to sleep as well,  
He shuts his eyes.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You can tell it’s a nightmare, because the air is thick, suffocating him as his eyes open.  
He’s in the dark room, but it’s been destroyed.  
The ceiling lights dangle, immersing him in a world of darkness, as if he’s never experienced it before.  
The pictures are scattered on the floor, the broken glass joined together.  
The white backdrop has blood splatters on it, and he’s confused.

He feels the overwhelming desire to look down, eyes widening, filling to the brim with tears.  
“No.”  
He only mumbles one word a series of times, as he stares at the reality in front of him.

There’s bodies.  
Blood.  
Bullet wounds.  
And he’s staring at a cluster of them.  
Rachel, Max, Chloe, Jefferson, Kate.  
They’re all next to each other, but in a different position that determines the way they died.

Nathan feels a sudden numbness in his left hand, only to find a gun.  
The tip of it covered in blood.  
His hands covered in blood.

“Don’t you see, Nathan?”

He gasps for air as he flings the gun across the room, hoping to reverse this mess.  
His hands are shaking, the room is spinning.

“You hurt everyone around you.”

It’s him.  
There’s a certain cold expression on this person’s face, so menacing that Nathan can’t even believe it’s himself.

There’s his infamous red jacket, placed carefully on the couch.  
The nathan in front of him is bleeding, a bullet hole between his eyes, blood leaking from it, it stains his shirt, but he wears a devilish smile as he leans against the couch.

“No.”  
“Even if you don’t mean to.”

He shrugs, and walks closer, stopping at the head of Jefferson, not seeming to mind that his designer shoes are in a puddle of blood.

“It may not always be on purpose, but c’mon, Nate…”

He wags his finger, side to side.

Tsk.  
Tsk.

“You always fuck up.”  
“No. No.”

His hands are combing through his hair, and he can’t help but stare at them.  
Victims.  
His victims.

“You think you can be happy? You think you have a future?”

His voice is trickling with hatred, condescending.  
It feels like forever before he’s standing directly in front of Nathan.

This Nathan has darker eyes, angrier. Bitter.  
“...no.”  
Whispering, he’s cowering in the face of the devil.

“How could you have a future...when you took theirs away? And for what?”  
He tilts his head to the side, makes direct eye contact.

“Because daddy didn’t love you?”  
“No!”

He goes to punch him dead in the face, contemplates grabbing the gun, and shooting him in the head for a second time.

But he’s not fast enough.  
His hands are around his throat, squeezing.  
He struggles to breathe, tries to push him off, but fails and can only feel the pain that is himself strangling him.

He sees his smile, and hears a little laugh before it all goes black.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No!”

Max’s eyes shoot open as this loud voice echoes through her room, her mind immediately thinking the worst of all outcomes.

Robbery. Murder. Kidnap. Jefferson escaped from prison and is here to finish both of them off.

But, it’s Nathan.  
His knees are up to his chest, and his body is shaking as he sobs, droplets of sweat trickle from his forehead.

“Nathan!”  
Max goes to grab his hand, slowly.  
He flings it away.

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me!”  
He jumps out of the bed, just to land on the floor with a hard thud.  
“...please.”  
Nathan begins to rock back and forth as he holds his head in his hands, and Max’s heart is ripping in two.

“Nathan…”  
Max crawls out of bed, kneeling down in front of Nathan, who’s eyes are wide and filled with horror.  
She reaches her hand slowly, attempting to touch his.  
When he lets her, he stares at the hand before seeing the face that is before him.

“M-Max. Max?”  
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.”  
“Y-you’re alive?”  
“Yes.”

He throws his arms around her, tears seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt.  
Max rubs his back.

“I’m alive. Nathan, i’m fine. You’re fine.”

He pulls back and is looking into her eyes, and she sees it all.  
The torment.  
The manipulation.  
The illness, an everlasting war.

“I don’t ever want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you.”  
He cradles her face with both of his hands, rubs her cheek with his thumb.

In the middle of his sobs, he whispers,

“Please don’t let me go.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "If I told you what I was,  
> Would you turn your back on me?  
> And if I seem dangerous,  
> Would you be scared?"
> 
> -Monster, by Imagine Dragons

The curtains are drawn today, each and every one of them is pulled down to block the sunshine from dipping onto the wooden floors.

Max stirs two cups of hot tea, her hair tied into a ponytail, ignoring the strands in her face, pretending to not be bothered by them.

Grasping both of them in her hands she walks carefully over to the couch where he sits.  
His hands are in his pockets, the hoodie seems to swallow him, Max notices how his expression seems...hollow.

“Here. Careful though, it’s hot.”  
Nathan nods as he holds it with the sleeves covering his hands.  
His eyes staring into it.

“How are you feeling?” She keeps her voice quiet, knowing that the response to this question may or may not be heavy.

She expects silence, as that’s usually the answer to these kind of questions.  
But he looks up at her this time, Max notices how his eyes are stormy, dull, lifeless.

“I’m just...tired.”  
“...I know.”

She doesn’t know how to comfort him in situations like this, the only thing she can offer is a listening ear, but all he has to say is nothing.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
All he can think of is that dream.  
What he said to himself.  
The damage, the destruction, the chaos he caused.

He sees that Max’s lips are moving, but he can’t hear her, so he just stares.

He doesn’t want to hurt her.  
He never wants to hurt her.  
He holds no intention to ever harm her.

But, all he can think about are those toxic riddled words.  
That he always fucks up.  
On accident, or on purpose, it never matters.  
He always fucks up.

Max deserves someone better than a murderer with daddy issues.  
Someone who can take her anywhere, whenever.  
Spoil her with love, and expensive film for her old camera.  
Museums.  
Tea.  
Someone she can laugh with.  
Someone she doesn’t have to console at night because they had a nightmare.

Anyone else.  
Anyone but Nathan.

He thinks about it, about calling everything off right there, right in this moment.  
In the living room, on the couch in the morning of a warm autumn day.

But, there’s one problem.  
He could never let her go, ever.  
She’s his comfort, his home,  
his..happiness.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you want to talk about it?”  
Max tilts her head as she waits for an answer she already expects.

Nathan is zoned out though, he stares at her but says absolutely nothing.  
Not even shaking his head or nodding, just holding the tea in his sweater wrapped hands and gazing at the features of her face.

“Nathan...please.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She’s talking.

Listen to her, you dumbfuck.

So he tunes back in, just at the right time to hear her plead.  
“Nathan...please.”  
Her face is filled with concern, worry.

What could he tell her?  
I had a dream that I murdered you, and your closest friends, and the guy that manipulated me?  
I had a dream that an evil twin of me strangled me to death?  
I had a dream where I lost you?

“It’s...nothing.”  
For a second she looks hopeful, but it all crashes.

“I’m sorry, Max.”  
“It’s fine.”

He decides to take a sip of the tea, hoping the bitter taste will rid his mouth of the taste of tears.  
“It was a nightmare, wasn’t it?”

Nathan nods, slowly, as he continues to sip the tea.

“I have them all the time…” She hangs her head down low, as she runs her finger over a faded scar on her wrist.  
“You do?”  
“Yeah. They’re different, but still...horrifying.”  
“Have you ever dreamt of...him?”

They don’t even need to say his name anymore, but instead say it quietly enough to know they’re speaking about true evil.

Max nods her head, then she tucks a portion of her hair behind her ear.  
“...Usually, i’m just a victim...another name.”

There were so many binders, Nathan remembers seeing them all.  
Bright red.  
Bulky.  
All filled with photos.

He remembers asking him about them.  
He slipped an arm around Nathan’s shoulder.  
“My precious collection...someday, you’ll have one of your own.”

“I’m sorry. This whole situation has been so...fucked.”  
Max chuckles.  
“Yeah, it really has.”

Nathan bites his tongue.  
Relationships are built on honesty.  
How can she help you if you won’t tell her anything?  
Hasn’t she proven herself loyal enough yet?

“...you were dead.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
It’s only a faint whisper, but Max hears it and is immediately listening.  
His head is hanging down, his eyes are closed shut.

“I had a nightmare, where I...I…”

Max places her hand on his, moving over closer.

“I killed you. I saw myself. He told me...that I hurt people.”  
“That’s not tru-”  
“You can’t say that, Max!”

Max shrinks a little at how loud his voice gets, but he collects himself quickly.

“You can’t look at your best friends murderer, and tell me that I don’t hurt anybody.”  
“You we-”  
“You can’t look at Kate, and tell me that I don’t hurt anybody...or-or Rachel.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He turns his head away, this will hurt a lot less.

She’s silent, fumbling with her fingers.

“I don’t deserve happiness. You do. So...so...god…”  
He sighs, and quickly wipes a tear away.  
“So, I need to go. I need to leave, and leave you, because you deserve someone so much better tha-”

She stands quickly on her feet, peering down at him, and he’s surprised, and frightened at the same time.

“Stop saying that! Stop saying I deserve someone better, because there’s no one that’s better! Don’t you get it?”

Nathan shakes his head.

“I want a future with you.”

It’s a punch to the gut that leaves him out of breath.

“When I told you we were in this together...I meant it. I’m not letting you go, no matter what you do, or what you say…”

Max sits down again, closer to Nathan, shoulder to shoulder.

“I’m not letting you go...I swore I wouldn’t.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm bigger than my body,  
> I'm colder than this home,  
> I'm meaner than my demons,  
> I'm bigger than these bones."
> 
> -Control, by Halsey

“I have to say, Mr. Prescott...I never thought i’d see you here again.”

His hush voice is one that snaps him out of his thoughts, Nathan watches him push his silver rimmed glasses up further with his index finger. He taps a pen on the papers that are in his hands.

Nathan wants him to stop tapping, but proceeds to say nothing.

“Never thought i’d be back again.”  
“It’s okay that you are, you know that right?”

He raises an eyebrow and looks up directly at Nathan, waiting for affirmation, so Nathan nods.

“Now, if i’m correct, it was Maxine that brought you here, yes?”  
“Yeah…”  
“She’s really worried about you, y’know.”

Nathan’s leg bounces up and down, repeatedly.  
His fingers twitch as his stomach twists.  
“Yeah…”

“She told me you’ve been having...nightmares again?”

Nathan remains silent, zoned out on a ficus plant placed in the corner of his room.  
The leaves spill over the brown colored pot, he’s admiring it’s existence.

The man nods, his sigh is quiet, but it doesn’t go unnoticed.  
“Now, where we left off...months ago…”  
He flips the pages over, studying the words on the paper that he carefully wrote down while Nathan threw his things around the room.

“You told me that you were paranoid, that you felt like he was watching you. Because of this, you refused to sleep.”

Nathan nods, he fumbles with the threads on the sleeve of his sweater.

“How have you been sleeping lately?”

He looks up again, the glimmer of sympathy in his eyes makes Nathan feel sick.

Don’t pity me.  
I don’t deserve it.

Nathan shrugs his shoulders, staring at the man’s pen, and how he taps it once, then stops.  
“Now, these nightmares...have they been frequent?”  
“No...this was the first in months.”

Nathan folds the sleeves over his hands, and looks up to the man, scribbling furiously on the paper.

“Will you tell me what it consisted of, Nathan?”  
“Do I have a choice?”  
“Yes, but it’s important you tell me, so I can help you...so you can be happy.”

Nathan’s shoulders slump down, he slides down the chair, begging to disappear.  
From here, from this room, this life.

The words hang on his tongue, his heart is telling him to say it, it’s something he’s wanted to scream at everyone.  
Everyone who pities him, pats him on the back.  
Everyone who tells him it’s fine to be happy.

“...Do I deserve it?”  
“What do you mean?”

He grips his pen harder in his hand, brings it closer to the paper.

“Do I deserve to be happy?”  
“Of course you do, Nathan.”

He pulls his glasses off, sets his clipboard on the table right next to him.  
Nathan watches him cautiously as he leans down, and drags his chair closer to him.

“Everyone deserves happiness, no matter what we’ve done.”

He’s struggling to listen to this and comprehend it all at once.  
All he hears is that he deserves to be happy, and then he tunes it out.

It’s a lie.

It’s a lie.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Max is walking left to right and back again, chewing on her nails as she watches the door.

“Max, please stop, you’re making me dizzy.”  
Victoria rolls her eyes, and rubs her forehead with her hand.  
“Sorry, i’m nervous.  
“Well, imagine how he feels.”

Anxious.  
Nervous.  
Angry.

Max sits next to Victoria, who’s readjusting the bracelets on her voices.  
“Do you think he’ll be angry with me? That I brought him here?”

Max can’t think of Nathan angry again, her mind is projecting those nasty flashbacks.

“What are you doing in my dorm?”  
How his delicate, and happy eyes went to rage so quick.

How his voice increased by several octaves, how quick he was to grab his gun.

She’s lost in her mind again, when she feels Victoria’s hand land on hers.  
Victoria gives it a light squeeze.

“You brought him here to help him, how could he be angry at you for doing that?”

Max’s eyes water, as she looks down at the beige carpeted ground.

“I just want him to be okay…”  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Now that we’ve taken a break, are you ready to talk?”

He’s not ready, he can tell by how his heart is begging to jump out of his chest, and how his thoughts are intersecting with each other, and how his hands are tightening up.

“I guess.”

He motions for Nathan to start talking, to visit this evil part of him again, to think about how he killed the person he loves the most, how he lost her to his own hand.

“I was in the dark room.”  
“The dark room? That’s the place where these activities occurred, yes?”

Nathan nods, struggling to not think about it.

“I-It was destroyed. Everything was broken...the pictures, the lights.”  
Nathan remembers looking at that painting, the horrifying girl with a handful of eyeballs, watching him.  
He remembers being high and trying to figure it out, it’s theme, the symbolism.  
He never could.

“I felt like I had to look down, there was this pressure pushing my head down...I gave in.”  
“When you looked down, what did you see?”

You can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s treading lightly, knowing that Nathan is angered easily, his tone is careful, light. Almost a whisper.

“...bodies.”  
“Of who?”  
“There was...Chloe, Kate, Jefferson...and Max. So much blood.”  
“Continue.”  
“I heard a deep voice, he said that...I hurt everyone. When I looked down again, there was a gun in my hand...blood on my hand.”  
“You had murdered them?”

Nathan nods, his eyes becoming tired, heavy.

Please, let me shut them.  
Let me close them forever, please.

 

“And this voice...do you recognize who’s it was?”  
“It was mine.”  
“This figure speaking to you, it was you?”  
“Yes.”

He writes in his notes, tilting his head to the side, his eyebrows raise for a second, as his frown deepens.

“What else did he say to you?”  
“He told me that it didn’t matter if it was on purpose, or an accident. That I always hurt people.”  
“Do you think this to be true?”  
“Yes.”  
“Go on.”  
“He had a bullet hole...in his head. There was blood covering his face, clothes. He told me I couldn’t be happy, couldn’t have a future...because I took theirs away.”  
“Did you say anything back to him?”  
“I couldn’t say much because I was scared. I tried to hit him.”  
“How did that go?”  
“He strangled me, I tried to fight back but then couldn’t. I figured, why would I? I deserve it.”

He frowns again, looks up at Nathan.

“Nathan, do you feel like you deserve to die?”  
“Yeah, why am I alive when I killed someone who didn’t deserve it? Why do I deserve a future, when I took someone else’s away?”  
“You do realize what that dream meant...right, Nathan?”

Nathan shrugs, he’s zoning out again, this time on the outside of the window.  
It’s raining, and the clouds are scattered over Arcadia.  
How fitting for a depressing place like this.

“You’re fighting yourself...you’re convinced that all you ever do is hurt people around you. This evil figure in your nightmare, he’s the side of you that died the day this event happened, but you think he still exists in you. When he strangled you...you began to fight back, but you stopped because you thought you deserved it. You let him win, and this side of you…”

He motions to Nathan, who for once is intentively listening, as he goes on.  
“The very one i’m looking at...it died. You think that it’s inevitable. That you’re gonna turn back to your old ways, and part of you feels like you should because you don’t deserve to be better.”

The rain is falling harder on the roof, Nathan chews on the inside of his cheek.

“But...you do, and I understand with everything you’ve been conditioned to think, that you think you don’t. But, you do. You’re allowed to grow. You’re allowed to move on. You’re allowed to live. Say it with me, Nathan.”

Nathan fights the urge to roll his eyes, to scream, to turn the shitty art in his room upside down.

He used to be sure that he only deserved to be rotting, but now…  
Now he’s just confused.

“I’m allowed to grow, i’m allowed to move on.”

He looks to the ceiling as he continues, his voice growing louder.

“I’m allowed to live.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


End file.
